


the sensation you're probably dreading

by darlingargents



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Degradation, Filming, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Photography, Post-IT (2017), Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25028884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/pseuds/darlingargents
Summary: “Cocksucker,” Patrick reads. “It’s what you are. Right, Trashmouth?”Richie nods. He wants to scrub his skin raw. He wants to burn it off. This is a hundred times worse than the graffiti in every school bathroom.“Now,” Patrick says, “time to prove it.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patrick Hockstetter/Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 91
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	the sensation you're probably dreading

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ofgodsandmonsters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofgodsandmonsters/gifts).



> Title from [The Dismemberment Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qOb-Ha7UaEw) by Blue Kid.

Richie knew the camera was coming, but knowing that didn’t prepare him for seeing Patrick carry it in and set it up on a tripod. It’s not huge, but just knowing it’s there, watching from the corner of the room, its giant eye _watching_ him…

The fact that it’s not sentient doesn’t make it any less freaky.

“Kaspbrak ready?” Patrick asks as he sets up the camcorder. Eddie had vanished into Patrick’s bathroom ten minutes ago and hasn’t emerged since. Richie’s pretty sure Eddie’s having a quiet panic attack, and equally sure that he doesn’t want Richie’s comfort. It’s his fault that Eddie is here in the first place.

“Should be,” Richie manages, and is wondering if he should go get him when Eddie comes back into Patrick’s room, closing the door behind him. His eyes are downcast, and when he sits next to Richie on the bed that’s been stripped down to the sheets, Richie can see that his eyes are red like he’s been crying.

 _I’m sorry_ , he wants to say. But no apology could ever be enough. Hesitantly, he reaches out to touch the back of Eddie’s hand, and Eddie flips it and entwines their fingers. One squeeze, two, and Eddie drops his hand again.

Richie’s fingers tingle where Eddie had been touching him, just a little.

“Ready,” Patrick says. “Kaspbrak, do you have them?”

Eddie nods. Richie isn’t sure he wants to know what they’re talking about.

“Strip,” Patrick says, and Richie’s stomach drops out of his body. Knowing this was coming isn’t the same as standing up and pulling off his clothes as Eddie does the same, making a pile on the floor, knowing what’s about to happen. It’s first-day-of-school nerves turned up approximately a thousand percent.

He climbs back up on the bed, naked, and sees that Eddie is holding a sharpie. “What’s that for?” he asks, stupidly, and hears a _click_.

“Running now,” Patrick says softly. Show’s on.

Patrick had been almost naked already, and he drops his boxers as he makes his way to the bed. “Little Eddie here,” Patrick says into the camera, “is going to get his cock sucked by Derry’s best, Trashmouth Tozier here. Trashmouth is so good at sucking cock that I think everyone deserves to know. Right, Eddie?”

Eddie nods, and uncaps the sharpie. Patrick adjusts their angles a bit, and Richie lets himself be moved, feeling sick to his stomach. He doesn’t even want to think about when Patrick and Eddie talked about this. Was it while Patrick was shoving his cock down Eddie’s throat? Or were they just talking, the way Patrick never talks to Richie?

Eddie lays a hand on Richie’s shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts, and Richie forces himself to breathe as Eddie presses the soft tip of the sharpie into his skin and starts to write. Each letter deliberately shaped, a sprawling word crossing Richie’s chest.

From this angle, he can’t quite read it, but he can get the gist. A minute or so later, Eddie leans back away, and Patrick takes Richie’s shoulders from behind and turns him, displaying him to the camera.

“ _Cocksucker_ ,” Patrick reads. “It’s what you are. Right, Trashmouth?”

Richie nods, watching Eddie cap the sharpie and toss it aside out of the corner of his eye. He wants to scrub his skin raw. He wants to burn it off. This is a hundred times worse than the graffiti in every school bathroom.

“Now,” Patrick says, “time to prove it. Trashmouth, it’s your time to shine.”

Richie licks his lips, aware that every motion is being captured on camera, and flips onto his belly as Eddie moves up to the head of the bed and spreads his legs wide for Richie to crawl between them. The words on his chest aren’t on camera now, but Richie can still feel them. He knows they’re still there, and that’s the point.

Eddie’s not quite hard yet, and Richie spits into his palm before reaching to grab Eddie’s cock. Eddie winces, ever so slightly, and Richie mouths an apology, out of the view of the camera and Patrick. He pumps his slick hand up and down Eddie’s cock and it starts to fill out under his palm. He puts his other hand on Eddie’s thigh, holding him still and rubbing his thumb in a circle, a silent comfort.

When Eddie is fully hard, he doesn’t waste any time. Patrick would just take the opportunity to humiliate him some more. He takes Eddie down his throat in a single motion and Eddie gasps, thrusting up into his mouth, the thigh muscles under his hand going tight with pleasure.

The thing is, the word on his chest isn’t exactly a lie. Richie likes sucking cock, and he’s gotten good at it, practicing over and over on Patrick. It hadn’t taken long for Patrick to realize just how into it he was, and he’d used it as a tool of humiliation, like he always does. Making Richie blow him and pressing a foot over his cock, making him rut against it like an animal. It takes Richie barely a minute to come like that, cheeks red with shame and so turned on he could die, under Patrick’s foot with come on his face.

He likes sucking cock, and he’s good at it, but it makes him ashamed like nothing else, makes him sick with a mixture of disgust and painful arousal. He jerks off in the shower with a painfully tight grip on his cock, fingers in his mouth, imagining the taste of someone else’s come. Someone else, like Eddie. He’s been dreaming of blowing Eddie for years, for as long as he’s known it was something you could do, and now his first time doing it to him will be forever on camera for Patrick to watch.

Richie needs to stop thinking. It’s never _safe_ to stop thinking, but he tries to focus on Eddie’s cock filling out his mouth, the taste of the precome that leaks onto his tongue when he pulls back to suck on the head. He uses his other hand to massage the shaft, and move down to cup Eddie’s balls in his hand. Distantly, he notices that he’s getting hard against the mattress, his cock pinned up against his stomach. He shifts a little, relieving the pressure, and moans around Eddie’s cock.

Eddie whimpers and grabs Richie’s hair, knotting his fingers in it. Richie is about to stop teasing and try to make Eddie come when he feels something — a light touch on his back, and then another, and then another. Fingers dancing down his spine, towards—

He nearly chokes on Eddie’s cock when a finger is forced inside him. It doesn’t hurt, the passage eased with lube and plenty of previous experience, but he wasn’t expecting it. He pulls off Eddie’s cock, keeping his hand moving, and looks back. Patrick has adjusted the camera a bit, moving it to the side of the bed to focus on Richie. He has a bottle of lube in his hand and he’s hard, his cock red and dripping.

“Get back to it,” he says, breathless. “You’re gonna have two cocks in you, Trashmouth. Exactly what you’ve always wanted.”

Richie has to close his eyes at that. The sweep of arousal in his belly is painful. He lifts his hips to allow Patrick better access and takes Eddie into his mouth again, just holding him with some light sucking. Eddie’s hips buck up into his mouth with another pained whimper, his fingers still tangled in Richie’s hair.

Patrick doesn’t bother much with prep, and withdraws his fingers after maybe a minute, the slick sounds loud in the quiet room. Richie is terrified and more turned on than he’s ever been. With his hips up, there’s nothing against his cock, and he takes the hand on Eddie’s thigh away to reach down and grasp it for a moment, giving him temporary relief.

“Ready?” Patrick says, and doesn’t wait for a response as he climbs up on the bed behind Richie and lines himself up. The head of his cock slides in and Richie has to close his eyes and breathe around Eddie’s cock for a moment as the battling sensations overwhelm him. Patrick has fucked him before, but this feels entirely new, the feeling of Eddie in his mouth and Patrick in his ass, all at once.

For once, Patrick takes his time sliding all the way in, taking it maddeningly slowly. When he bottoms out, Richie is panting around Eddie’s cock, sweat on his forehead, his thighs shaking. A hard slap lands on Richie’s flank and he jumps, Eddie’s cock almost sliding out of his mouth.

“Suck him off, Trashmouth,” Patrick says, and starts to fuck him, fast and hard and painful, enough to make Richie’s limbs go weak as he gives in and lets himself be fucked. It’s hard to focus on anything but the sensation, but he has to get Eddie off. Richie props himself up higher on his elbows and takes Eddie as far down his throat as he can, his eyes watering as he holds it there and pulls back. Eddie’s other hand lands on his head and Richie lets himself be guided on Eddie’s cock, up and down. Eddie moans and thrusts his hips up shallowly, his cock brushing the back of Richie’s throat again.

With Patrick fucking him and Eddie fucking his mouth, Richie closes his eyes and lets himself be used. It feels so good that he can almost forget the camera, the words on his skin, the fact that Eddie never wanted to be here in the first place and the fact that he never agreed to any of this. All he can do is let himself be taken.

Eddie’s fingers tightening in his hair is Richie’s only warning that Eddie’s about to come. He pulls off Eddie’s cock and finishes him with his hand, and Eddie whimpers, his legs kicking weakly out against the mattress, as his cock spurts on Richie’s face, come dripping down his nose and lips. He looks up at Eddie and licks his lips while making eye contact, and Eddie’s softening cock gives a valiant twitch in his hand.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Patrick says. “I knew you were a fucking slut, Trashmouth, but this is another level.”

Richie bites his lip to keep from shouting or crying or doing anything else stupid, and shifts back a little, out from between Eddie’s legs. He rests his forehead on his arms and lets Patrick fuck him, as Patrick’s fingers dig deep into the flesh over his hipbones, hard enough to bruise.

The thrusts speed up, going deeper and more erratic, and a hand finds Richie’s hair and pulls him back, baring his neck for Eddie.

“Take the fucking picture,” Patrick says between heavy breaths, and Eddie reaches for the Polaroid camera on the bedside table that Richie never noticed before. His vision is bouncing in time with Patrick’s thrusts, with the hand still in his hair, but he can still see Eddie lifting the camera to his eye.

 _Click_. Captured forever: the come on his face, COCKSUCKER on his chest, Patrick inside him. The picture slides out of the camera and Eddie puts them both aside, looking surprisingly steady.

With that out of the way — and Richie wonders how long it’s been planned, if it was meant to happen from the beginning, if he told Eddie what would be coming — Patrick clearly sees no reason to wait. He buries himself in Richie and comes with a groan, one hand still pulling his on his hair.

Richie can feel his own cock dripping against the mattress, hard enough to pound nails, and he’s just about convinced himself that he won’t be getting off when Patrick lets go of his hair, reaches down, and grasps his cock. It only takes a couple of strokes and the memory of Eddie’s breathless gasps before he comes, his vision practically whiting out as he collapses on the mattress. Patrick’s cock slides out of him and he feels Patrick’s come running down his thigh as he breathes through the orgasm.

He feels more than hears Patrick getting off the bed and going to turn off the camera. He’s not quite ready to move and clean up, facedown on the mattress, still basically between Eddie’s legs. At some point he needs to get up and out of Patrick’s house, needs to go home and scream into his pillow a bit, and make his peace with the fact that Patrick will have this video forever. Which is about the same length of time that Eddie is going to hate him, because if he had never told Patrick how he felt about Eddie, he never would’ve gotten involved. It’s his fault, and he knows that Eddie will never speak to him again. Just what he deserves.

Richie has worked himself about halfway to a panic attack when a hand lands on his head. It’s not Patrick, because Patrick doesn’t touch him gently or without reason. So it must be Eddie, and he only has a moment to process that before Eddie starts… petting him. Slow, soft movements over his hair. Comforting him, as if he’s the one who deserves comfort.

It might not be what he deserves, but Richie still has to close his eyes against the tears threatening to fall. He lets Eddie comfort him, and he reaches out, blindly, to touch Eddie somehow, to return the comfort as best he can.

Eddie takes his hand, and Richie lets himself cry, silent against the mattress.


End file.
